Soundless(64)

When I can finally drag my gaze from their beauty, I see that chaos has returned below. The horses are rearing, and the soldiers try to calm them, splitting their attention between the animals, the villagers, and the majestic creatures in the sky. The reactions of my own people are mixed. Some are simply stunned, unable to move. Others, terrified, attempt to flee. Still others make the connection between our cries and the appearance of the pixius. Many of these people are older, familiar with the myths, and see this as our salvation. They fall to their knees, holding their hands up and raising their voices, though this time there is a note of joy to the cries.

One such supplicant is an older woman not far from me. I know her as someone who has lost much of her sight, but it’s clear she can still make out the glittering of the pixius as they continue to circle above us. She lifts her hands in thanksgiving, crying out in happiness. A young soldier stands nearby, nervously watching the sky. When he hears the old woman, he strikes her in the head with the hilt of his sword.

In the blink of an eye, one of the pixius—a golden one—breaks formation and dives down, straight for the soldier. With talons glittering as brightly as that metallic fur, the pixiu snatches the soldier up and tosses him over the cliff in one smooth motion. His screams as he goes over raise the hair on the back of my neck.

That action is like a spark to tinder. The soldiers mobilize, seeing a clear and immediate threat in the pixius. The soldiers’ leader begins shouting orders. Swords are raised, and a handful of men with bows and arrows come hurrying forward. Even though I can’t understand the leader’s words, his actions and expression convey his orders clearly: Bring down the pixius!

Arrows fly into the sky. Most are dodged easily by the swiftly moving pixius. Those arrows that do make contact bounce harmlessly off the pixius’ hides. Their fur looks luxuriously soft but apparently has the impenetrability of the hardest rock. These direct attacks drive the pixius to action. They break out of their circling formation now, diving and striking with incredible speed as they pick off their enemies one by one. From my vantage, I notice the pixius easily distinguish soldier from captive and spare both my people and the plateau miners. As for the soldiers . . . they meet a different fate. Some are thrown over the cliffs. Others are simply torn apart.

For those in the thick of the crowd, it is not obvious that the pixius are sparing the prisoners. Villagers panic and begin running, once more nearly stampeding over one another in their haste to get away. Soon they are joined by panicked soldiers who realize the futility of trying to kill these creatures. The soldiers seem to be heading back toward the village, and my guess is that they are running away to the recently opened passes that will lead down the other side of the mountain. Frightened villagers, not wanting to cross paths with their former captors, head in the opposite direction, toward the mines to join those hiding within. Still others cannot move at all. They stay where they are, eyes trained upward at the beautiful, deadly display happening in the air.

Chaos reigns.

I leave my spot and head toward where I last saw my sister. The crowd around her has dispersed, but she is still there, transfixed by the sights above. She squints, her face filled with wonder. Someone fleeing pushes me from behind, causing me to bump into her. She glances down, smiling when she sees me.

You did it, Fei! You were able to—

I don’t see what else she says because my attention is caught by a sound—a voice. It is one I know by now: Li Wei’s. I would recognize it anywhere, and I have a brief, surreal memory of the blue thrush and how it could find its mate with a single cry. I don’t have to see Li Wei’s face now to hear the warning in his voice. Even without words, the message is clear. I spin around and am just in time to see a soldier barreling through, uncaring of who or what is in his way as he wields his swords.

Thanks to Li Wei’s warning, I’m just barely able to grab Zhang Jing and dodge out of his path, though it knocks her and me to the ground. The soldier swings his swords where we stood and then pauses in his escape to regard us menacingly. Before he can decide what to do next, a bronze pixiu swoops down and intercepts him, carrying him off, only his screams ringing behind him. I hurry to help Zhang Jing stand. It is unclear what place will be the safest, and then I remember Li Wei’s voice. I search in the direction it came from and see him standing over by the mines, where the majority of our people have gathered. He waves at me through the pandemonium, and, taking Zhang Jing’s hand, I begin making my way toward him.

It’s complete disorder, almost a repeat of when I was trying to cross the village’s center earlier today. At least now no one is targeting me specifically, but danger still abounds. Everyone is so concerned with saving themselves that they pay little heed to who’s in their way. The soldiers don’t hesitate to use weapons and force to clear their paths, fear making them even more desperate and brutal. The pixius are coming for them, and they know it. I hear their screams, and they are awful, heart-wrenching sounds—even though I regard these men as my enemies. It makes me wish for silence again, and I wonder how soldiers can stand to devote their lives to war. Who could live with such confusion and despair on a regular basis?

At last, Zhang Jing and I join the rest of our people standing by the mines, and Li Wei puts his arms around me. Because Zhang Jing is still clinging to me, he ends up hugging us both. We huddle together with others by the mine’s entrance and watch the scene around us. Most of the soldiers are gone, either dead or having escaped. A couple became trapped here in the clearing, and when they are spotted by pixius, their end is quick and bloody. One soldier, seeing a pixiu coming for him, chooses an alternate ending: throwing himself off the cliff.